


One Wind

by Alyson_Page



Series: Birdtalker [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Joker Jr - Freeform, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of self neglect, Pet dad Tim Drake, Protective Bruce Wayne, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Undercover Missions, past trauma, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyson_Page/pseuds/Alyson_Page
Summary: “I’m not completely helpless without you, you know. I am capable of making plans.”“Well, go on then. What are you doing?”“Street festival,” Jason said simply, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.Kori clapped joyfully, a squeal of approval escaping her. “That sounds most enjoyable!”“A festival?” Roy questioned doubtfully, “Really? How did you come across that?”“I’ll have you know it’s a Gotham summer tradition.”
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Birdtalker [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677238
Comments: 203
Kudos: 466





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Lovelies! Welcome to the 4th installment of the Birdtalker series. Thank you you so much for sticking with it and being patient. I hope you are all staying safe and healthy, I wish you all the very very best. May this bring you a little bit of joy and a reprieve from whatever stress you might be under.

I've listened with an agenda so I could prove  
All of the shit I believe to be true  
Just to hide the fear of being weak

One

By Birdtalker

* * *

The shrill bleat of Jason’s ringtone ripped him from his sleep. With a strangled cry, he half rose from his twisted sheets, grasping for the incessant device. He fumbled to answer, struggling through half-lidded eyes before he managed to accept the incoming call.

“’Ello?”

“ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_!”

“Fuck you two _.”_

“ _I am overjoyed by the anniversary of your birth!”_

“Thanks, Kori,” Jason grumbled, sinking back into his bed.

“ _Congratulations on another full year around the sun,”_ Roy chirped. _“Sorry we aren’t there to celebrate with you.”_

“It’s alright. Tamaran needs you more than I do.”

Kori hummed sweetly, from the other side of the galaxy. “ _I wish you were here with us.”_

_“We miss you, Jay.”_

“I know,” Jason agreed, rubbing his hand brusquely through his hair, “I miss you guys too, but we have no idea how long you’ll have to be gone, and Black Mask has been-“

“ _Jay, it’s_ okay," Roy assured, _"We get it. Besides, Artemis more than makes up for your skill set.”_

“ _She is a most impressive specimen,”_ Kori cheered, _“She will revered on Tamaran.”_

Jason smiled, grateful for the Amazon for agreeing to fill his spot for this particular mission. “I’ll have to fight her to get my spot on the team back.”

“ _She would win,”_ Roy laughed loudly.

“Thanks,” Jason muttered sarcastically, faux annoyance pushing into the receiver, “That makes me feel real good on my birthday.”

“ _What are friends for?_ ”

“Not for waking you up this early.”

“ _We desired most to be the first to wish you well on this special day.”_

“Well, it worked,” Jason chuckled.

Roy laughed brightly in return, “ _What have you got planned for the day? Lazing about? Birthday take out for one?”_

“I’m not completely helpless without you, you know. I am capable of makin' plans.”

“ _Well, go on then. What are you doing?”_

“Street festival,” Jason said simply, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.

Kori clapped joyfully, a squeal of approval escaping her. “ _That sounds most enjoyable!”_

 _“A festival?”_ Roy questioned doubtfully, the phone crackling as he readjusted his hold. _“Really? How did you come across that?”_

“I’ll have you know it’s a Gotham summer tradition.”

“ _And who told you about this Gotham tradition?”_

“I know things, Roy.”

_“Is ‘things’ 5’10, 140 pounds, with pretty blue eyes and an ass you cou-“_

“Roy,” Jason hissed, his teeth clenched, “if you finish that sentence, the next time I see you, I will shave your head while you’re sleeping.”

 _“Your threats mean nothing to me, lover boy,”_ Roy grinned, crooning sweetly.

 _“Have you taken Tim as your bedfellow, Jason?”_ Kori inquired, her voice reverberating with elation. “ _This is joyous news! I will bring you back a Tameranian tincture of virility.”_

“That will absolutely not be necessary,” Jason affirmed, throwing off his blanket, “I’ve not taken Tim as my anything and I have no plans to do so. Roy just has a highly active imagination.”

“ _But he is taking you to this festival?”_

“Yes Roy, Tim is taking me for my birthday. Happy?”

“ _Like a date?”_

“No. Not like a date. Like a friend hanging out with me on my birthday.”

“ _Fine,”_ Roy conceded, _“whatever you say.”_

Jason hummed quietly in reply, picking slightly at the thinning green bottom sheet beneath him. He let the silence stretch, the distance between him and his best friends filled with only their light breathing made them suddenly feel so much further away.

 _“I hope your day brings you as much joy as your birth brings us,”_ Kori said finally.

“Thank you. I’ll try.”

 _“What time are you meeting up with Tim?”_ Roy asked.

“He’s swinging by around eleven-thirty.”

“ _Well you better hurry, Jay, it’s eleven-seventeen earth time.”_

Jason sprung forward, pulling his phone away from his face to see the time. “What?!”

Jason could hear Roy cackling, even with the phone held at a distance. “ _Talk to you later!”_

_“Farewell, Jason!”_

He watched as the connection severed, his home screen blinking into view, a text from Tim advising that he was on his way mocking him cruelly. He launched himself over the foot of his bed, snatching up a pair of jeans that were draped across a half open dresser drawer. He stepped in hastily, bringing his left foot down to quickly into the twisted fold of the fabric, knocking himself to the floor, his head catching the corner of the box spring as he descended.

With a vehement curse, he groaned, pushing his tangled legs out through the bottom and clambering back to his feet, stalking to the closet as he worked the closers into place. He pulled a white v-neck down, slipping it over his head when his phone started to ring. Ignoring it, Jason jogged instead to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and taming the sleeping mess out of his hair. Doubling back into his room for his shoes, he shot Tim a text that he would be down shortly, before tucking his wallet, phone, and keys into his pockets, and leaving his apartment.

It was an uncommonly nice Gotham morning; the sky was a pale blue and the sunshine was mild for mid-August, and if the forecast prevailed it would be a comfortable seventy-eight degrees most of the day.

Tim was leaning against the buildings stoop, a backpack slung on one shoulder and a skateboard poised underfoot. He looked very at ease, dressed in a loose teal shirt and pair of patterned shorts and sneakers that were either very modern or quite vintage. Jason, who paid very little heed to the current trends knew that Roy would probably find Tim’s outfit too ostentatious, but Kori would love it and want it for herself. All Jason thought was Tim in anything other than his uniform, a suit or work out gear, was a rare enough treat that the whole thing could have been neon orange and he would not have cared.

“Sorry,” Jason greeted apologetically, bouncing down the stairs. “Late start.”

“That’s okay,” Tim smiled, tucking his board under arm, “it’s your birthday, you can be as late as you want.”

“I should have slept more than,” Jason joked.

Tim tilted his head as Jason moved closer, his eyes narrowing slightly in sudden appraisal. “You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Your head is bleeding.”

Jason reached up, touching the slightly aching spot near his temple, his finger grazing the sticky wetness of the slowly descending blood. “Oh.”

“Hold this,” Tim instructed, placing the skateboard against Jason’s chest to take. “Sit down.”

Jason eased himself back, lowering himself onto the top step, letting the board lay flat against his thighs as Tim pulled his backpack around. It was a cheerful yellow, white, and teal color blocked bag, perfectly coordinated with his clothes, and he unzipped the middle pocket, digging inside it before he pulled out a small, plastic box.

It opened with a little pop, and Tim set it down on the makeshift table, pulling out a cotton ball and a miniature bottle of bactine. Carefully, he pushed Jason’s hair back, gingerly disinfecting the cut and clearing the area of blood.

“It looks like you’ll live,” Tim smirked, dabbing the area dry with a second cotton ball. “What did you do?”

“Fell out of bed," Jason muttered the half truth, avoiding Tim's too close gaze, "I didn’t realize it did any damage.”

Tim ripped the corner of a Neosporin packet, applying the cream and pulling out two band aids. “Rubber ducks or ladybugs?”

“Uhh…”

“Ducks it is,” Tim decided, peeling back the wrapping, and pressing the sticky, cartoon duck covered strip to his skin.

“Did you skate here?” Jason asked, as Tim reassembled his first aid kit and stuck back into his bag.

“I stayed nearby last night, in one of the emergency apartments.”

Jason rolled his eyes, a little exasperated but not surprised, “Does he have apartments near all of my places?”

“If I say yes, will you move again?”

“No,” Jason shrugged, “Barbara could find me easy if she wanted to.”

“Very valid reasoning,” Tim agreed, extending his hand to help Jason from the steps. “Ready to go?”

Jason nodded, taking Tim’s hand, and pulling himself up. “Lead the way,” Jason smiled, and he fell into step beside him with thoughtless ease.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t know you could skateboard,” Jason admitted, glancing back again at the item in question, the underside of it adorned with faded stickers.
> 
> “It made getting around at night easier. I used to bike, but it got stolen a few times, and with the skateboard, I could strap it to my backpack when I was getting on top of the buildings.”
> 
> “Of course,” Jason laughed, “You would choose skateboarding for the practicality of your secret nighttime excursions and not for the cool kid aesthetic.”
> 
> “At no point was I ever a cool kid, Jason.”
> 
> “Rich kid Timothy Drake, uncool? I can’t believe it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright you guys, you've been reading the series, you've been sticking with it. Please accept this decently long chapter of pure bonding fluff as a thank you for all the love you have been giving me.

I've played the teacher, the preacher, guru  
Maintaining postures separating me and you  
As if the thoughts of God were mine and mine to speak

One

By Birdtalker

* * *

“Thanks, for this,” Jason said as they made their way down the sidewalk, “You didn’t have to do something for my birthday.”

“I wanted to,” Tim replied honestly, keeping his face facing forward, resisting the urge to look at Jason while they walked. “And I’m trying to do more things that aren’t work related, so it provided the perfect opportunity.”

“Normal things, like street fairs and skateboarding?”

Tim bobbed his head in agreement, “Normal everyday activities, yeah.”

“I didn’t know you could skateboard,” Jason admitted, glancing back again at the item in question, the underside of it adorned with stickers both faded and new.

“It made getting around at night easier. I used to bike, but it got stolen a few times, and with the skateboard, I could strap it to my backpack when I was getting on top of the buildings.”

“Of course,” Jason laughed, “You would choose skateboarding for the practicality of your secret nighttime excursions and not for the cool kid aesthetic.”

“At no point was I ever a cool kid, Jason.”

“ _Rich kid Timothy Drake,_ uncool? I can’t believe it.”

“I was the youngest kid in my class at Gotham Prep,” Tim shrugged, remembering his time at school with extraordinarily little fondness. “I skipped two grades, and no one wanted to hang out with me.”

“Is that why you ended up doing night shoots in Gotham’s seedy underbelly?”

“I may not have been cool, but Batman certainly was, at least to a kid like me. It was hard not to be curious.”

Jason shuddered slightly, his mouth pinching with mild repulsion, “That is so wrong to hear.”

“But, Robin of course…” Tim eyed him carefully, “that was an appeal on a whole different level.”

“Cooler than Batman?” Jason teased.

“Just special. Like, offering a ride home to a kid whose bike was stolen in Chinatown.”

Jason halted abruptly, his lips parting into a small ‘O’ as he looked at Tim, who also slowed to stop as he realized his companion had faltered. The memory flashed brightly in his mind of a kid too young and too small to be out of his own, an oversized hood and dark hair obscuring his downcast face as he searched for his bicycle. “What?”

“I wasn’t joking when I said you were my favorite,” Tim admitted quietly, the memory equally as poignant to him.

Jason shifted, regaining his bearing with a quick clearing of his throat, “I guess there’s no accounting for taste.”

Tim’s mouth twitched, accepting the lackluster joke for what it was and continuing on, “Just because you don’t have any taste doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.”

“That’s not a vey nice thing to say to the birthday boy.”

“The birthday boy isn’t being very nice about himself.”

“Shouldn’t the birthday boy be however he wants on his birthday?”

“Only if the birthday boy doesn’t want a present,” Tim stopped at a bus stop, stepping under the overhang to lean on the arm of the bench.

“I said no presents,” Jason challenged.

Tim raised an eyebrow slowly, “You can’t actually believe that I wouldn’t get you a present?”

“I had hoped,” Jason said, crossing his arms almost defensively across his chest.

“You gave me a birthday present.”

“Well, you started it, you gave me a Christmas present.”

“Well then you’ll just have to give me something during the holidays and then we will be all squared up.”

Jason scoffed, “You can’t stand it for things not to go your way, can you?”

“I started off as an only child," Tim pointed out, "what do you expect?”

A bus pulled up to the stop and Tim straightened up, readying himself to board. He swiped his Travel Card twice, sliding past the rows for two empty seats together, plopping down with the comfort of someone who took the bus every day. Once the vehicle started to pull back into traffic, he took that time to get his skateboard secured to his backpack, balancing it on his lap as they drove along.

“It’s just one transfer to the orange line, and that one will get us right by the park, should be there by noon. I hope you’re hungry because the food is supposed to be amazing,” Tim prattled on, talking more to the window than to Jason. “And they have these Taste of the Fair punch cards you can purchase, and it’s by far the best deal.”

“Do you go to this every year?”

“No, this will actually be my first time. But all the info was listed on the city’s event page, and Tam took her dad a few weeks ago, and she said they both had a really good time.”

“Bet Bart would love something like this,” Jason commented, watching Tim carefully. “And Kon, too.” Tim hummed, shifting slightly in his seat, not offering another clear reply. “You haven’t been back to San Francisco for a while yeah?” Jason pressed further. “Not since June. Have they been back in Gotham since your birthday?”

“Bart stopped by last weekend. Wanted me to try a new video game.”

“And Kon?”

Turning his head to meet Jason's gaze he paused, letting his face fall into a practiced look of flat disinterest. “We don’t have to talk about Kon.”

“Why?” Jason asked, lowering his voice conspiringly, “You afraid he’ll hear us?”

“You don’t like him.”

“According to _who_?”

“According to _him_. He sort of has ways of knowing those kind of things.”

“Well, it isn’t as if he’s my number one fan either.”

“He doesn’t know you,” Tim argued, wishing not for the first time that the some of the others could see Jason the way he did, or at least try to better understand him.

“And I don’t really know him either,” Jason replied, “and honestly, I don’t really care to. I think he’s kind of stuck up and controlling and he rubs me the wrong way. But in the end he doesn’t have to like me, and I don’t have to like him to know that he’s your friend, that you like him, and that you can talk about him to me if you want to. And if you don’t wanna to talk about him, you don’t have to do that either. Just…I’m your friend, fuck all if he and I like each other or not.”

“We talked,” Tim sighed, toying the zipper on his backpack. “After my birthday. Things are okay, they aren’t perfect right now. We are trying to work through our issues though. I appreciate your...concern?”

“I get concerned about things...about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” Jason drawled, digging his elbow into Tim’s side, “you’re obviously the same kid from Chinatown who couldn’t figure out how to lock your bike properly, so…”

“I was nine!”

“I will accept no excuses from prodigy child Tim Drake.”

Tim shoved him back playfully, moving to regain space between them. “I’ll have to find a way to redeem myself, then.”

An easy bus transfer and short ride later had them pulling up to Robinson Park on the Diamond District side. The colorful tents could be seen from across the street, the sounds of the growing crowds rising and falling as they waited to cross. Tim produced two tickets at the entrance, nudging Jason ahead of him and waiving off his protestations with a smile and thank you to the ticket taker.

Tim tugged Jason along to the large information booth, following through on his promise to acquire the food passes, slipping one eagerly into his grip. “Now, how do you feel about sharing? Because if we split each item, we should be able to try everything.”

“I’m fine with sharing,” Jason shrugged, pocketing the card and looking around the expanse of tents and booths.

“Great, here’s the guide,” Tim passed a pamphlet to him before Jason could protest, “You pick where you want to eat first, I’m just going to grab some water bottles.”

Picking his way through the crowd, Tim stepped in line at a drink-only vendor with a heavy exhale. The nerves that had begun as he waited outside of Jason’s apartment had not been present when he had set out this morning, and if he did not get things under control, Jason was sure to take notice that something was off. This was not supposed to be different from any other time they had spent together, but it felt heavy in his heart now, as if their friendship hinged on how well today went.

With the two dewy bottles in hand, he returned to Jason, who stood exactly where he had been left, gazing at the map in his hand. “Hey,” Tim smiled, offering Jason the bottle. “Made a decision?”

“Mongolian,” Jason smiled back, taking the bottle, and twisting of the cap to take a swig. “And then, Cajun.”

“Laissez le bon temps rouler," Tim cooed in low toned French, setting off with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

There was something very refreshing about being out amongst people who were simply having a good time. The joyous cheers from children, people laughing and smiling, families, friends, and couples enjoying a rare beautiful Gotham summer day was unexpectedly wholesome, and a reprieve from both of their daily dealings.

The food, as described, did not disappoint. The passes allowed them bite-size tasting of whatever they wanted, and the meandered slowly through grounds, crowded over little paper trays of miniaturized meals. Tim polished off the avocado spring roll from the vegetarian/fusion stand they had last visited, passing the trash to Jason’s outstretched hand, who tossed it into one of the many carboard bins that appeared every few feet along the path.

“Can I…Can I ask you something?” Jason asked suddenly in a rather somber tone. Tim, his gut tightening at the sudden change did not allow the immediate worry he felt show on his face, and nodded instead with what he hoped was a normal amount of vocalization. “And I don’t want you take this the wrong way, but I kind of had the impression that you didn’t really like food, that much.”

The tension immediately evaporated from Tim and he snorted loudly, drawing an odd look from a balloon vendor as they passed. “And you divined that information from where exactly? All the tacos I haven’t turned down?”

“There has been more than one occasion where your cohorts have made mention you neglect to eat. Just because I’ve seen you eat doesn’t mean you do all the time. And I’m only asking, because if you’re force-feeding yourself right now so I can have a good time, that’s a new problem all on its own.”

“I don’t- Jason, I can promise you that I am not forcing myself to do anything. I like food- I love food, actually, but yes, I often have problems remembering to eat. I overly invest in my jobs- both my jobs, I get too busy, and there are days in the past that I have lived off coffee and water and not much else. Tam keeps me on a schedule when I am at work, and part of the deal I made with Bruce when we discussed my moving out was that I maintain my personal care, which I for the most part have been doing.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want to dismiss your concerns,” Tim assured him, “I can be negligent when it comes to myself, but I really am okay.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jason huffed, sifting his hand through the back of his hair. “Normally, I’d say screw any stipulations Bruce puts on you, but I feel that this probably had Alfred’s stamp of approval, and I can’t really get mad about that.”

“You’re turning into such a mother hen,” Tim told him, giving his arm a poke, “You’ll give Dick a run for his money.”

“Dick’s big-brother smothering is on another level, don’t get me started.”

“He’s not so bad,” Tim admitted, “He means well, and as far as older brothers go, we could have done worse.”

“Yeah, imagine if Damian were the oldest,” Jason supplied, “we would all be dead.”

“Yes, I think we can both grateful that that is not our reality.”

They stopped at two more food stalls before Jason insisted on taking a break, steering them instead through the merchants’ row. There was a wide array of Gotham talent with wares vying for attention; from jewelers to wood workers, organic honeys and jams to slabs of toffee, something was sure to peak a person’s interest as they pursued their offerings. For Jason, it was a crochet tea cozy pattered like the Union Jack, which he paid for with a beaming smile, already eager to bestow it on Alfred as the singular most perfect gift of all time.

Tim was more hesitant to purchase anything, too prone of overthinking what could make a good potential future gift. Instead he snatched up business cards from each booth he found remotely intriguing, cataloging their potential for future instances.

Rounding the bend past a display of hand painted silk scarves, they entered a long stretch of carnival games. Colorful stuffed toys ranging from tiny to abominable framed each booth to lure in participants. A rock wall and large trampoline could be seen in the distance, kids propelling down and turning somersaults in the air with thrilled shrieks as their parents took pictures from the ground.

“You there! You look you can handle a challenge, what do you say? Take a swing and ring the bell, win a prize for your fella?”

Jason blanched as the russet-bearded barker leaned against the large mallet, eyeing them with an oversized grin. Jason opened his mouth, ready to send him back to whatever sideshow he crawled out from, when Tim moved languidly forward, slipping off his backpack and passing it off to Jason.

“Sure,” he smirked, pulling out his wallet and thumbing through the billfold.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Ten dollars for three swings?” He asked, peeking up at the sign the hung behind the man’s head.

“Uhh, yes, yes sir it is, and you get five dollars back if you can do it in one.”

“How heavy is the puck?”

“About three or four pounds.”

“Okay,” Tim picked up the mallet, swing it slightly before resting it on his shoulder. “This is about five pounds?”

“I don’t really know…”

“That’s okay,” Tim dismissed, lining up to the square that was taped off in front of the tower. He gripped the handle, shifting his feet and bending his knees before he swung, bringing the head down into lever, the weight launching skywards and cracking into the bell with a rippling cry. Tim paused, letting the sound dissipate before handing the hammer back to the man. “Can I get the red one?” He requested sweetly, pointing at the prizes.

He nodded, taking down the fluffy red and white monkey with a hook, giving it over to Tim before diving into his pocket to retrieve the money.

“It’s fine, you can keep it,” Tim turned away, looping the arms of the goofy capuchin around Jason’s neck like an Olympic medal before taking back his bag and carrying on.

“That guy was a jerk,” Jason hissed.

“He is just trying to make a sale, that’s what they do.”

“But he didn’t have to be rude, he assumed-”

“And now I’ve demonstrated what happens when he does that,” Tim shrugged. “Besides, birthday boy, they had a red one, it’s so obviously your color.”

“Look who’s talking.”

They pressed further on, darts hitting balloons and rings clinking against glass bottles like faint percussions.

“Oh yes,” Jason grinned suddenly, jogging a few paces forward, “Yes, I am doing this.”

“Seriously?”

“Just because they are ducks doesn’t mean you have to take offense.”

Standing in front of the shooting gallery Tim watched as the rows and rows of ducks rolled across on the conveyor belt, waiting to be shot. Jason slipped into the seat, picking up the small, plastic rifle and leaning across the counter to look through the viewfinder.

Tim leaned down to him to whisper, “Not really your usual choice, is it?”

“I’m flexible,” Jason shrugged before pulling back slightly to look at him. “Is this okay?" He asked seriously. "I know you have a thing about guns.”

“I think we’ve worked together enough that you playing with a toy wouldn’t bother me.”

“Do you think or do you know?” Jason shot back.

“Stop coddling me and shoot the ducks,” Tim sighed, giving Jason’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping aside to give him space.

Jason readjusted his position, readying himself for the shrill ring of the starter bell. The second the sound began, Jason was firing, knocking down duck after duck like a collapsing line of rubbery yellow dominos. His red point indicator continued to increase until the buzzer went off again, the game shutting down with a click.

“Holy shit, dude, you didn’t miss a single one,” the teenager behind the counter praised, staring at the fallen targets.

“I’m really good at darts too,” Jason replied, throwing a wink at Tim.

The boy nodded, still slightly bemused by the excellence of the shooting as he stepped behind the display, pulling out a plastic baggie and handing it over. “Here you go, congratulations.”

Jason frowned, lifting it up to eye level to see a fish swimming inside. He turned towards Tim, who watched the fluttering of the fins with a piqued interest. The betta was a mix of black and vibrant green, the colors fanning out as it looped lazily around the small space.

“You should name him Eddie.”

“What?”

“Because of the colors,” Tim pointed out, referring to the greens and black that the Riddler preferred.

“I don’t think I can take care of a fish.”

“It can’t be that hard. It’s not a dog, you don’t have to potty train or walk it.”

“Here,” Jason said, handing it over to Tim to take. “You named it, you keep it.”

Tim stepped back from the bag, frowning. “You won it.”

“You won the monkey, yet it sits around my neck,” Jason pointed out. “Go on, fair is fair, I want you to have him.”

“Okay,” Tim conceded, “but it will on your conscience if his little fish life ends under my ownership.”

Coming to the end of the attractions, they looped back to where the rest of the food was found, hitting a few more booths at a much more leisurely pace, now slightly encumbered by their water dwelling companion.

“I think he took offense to the fish and chips,” Tim suggested as Eddie floated, keeping his backside to him.

“I think you’re overthinking the brain capacity of a fish.”

“Garth would take offense to that," Tim chided.

Jason rolled his eyes, pushing air dismissivly between his lips. “Well if his royal highness ever finds himself in Gotham, you can ask him what your fish is thinking.”

“Maybe I will,” Tim chuckled

“I’m getting pretty stuffed,” Jason groaned, patting his belly. “You ready to call it?”

“Only if we can grab dessert on our way out,” Tim bargained.

“Ice cream or funnel cake?”

“Ice cream on funnel cake.”

“You sound like Dick,” Jason laughed. “But fine. Ice cream on funnel cake.”

The deep fried and frozen treat was devoured as they made their way to the exit, taking the buses back to Jason’s apartment with fuller than average stomachs.

“I’m going to need a long nap,” Jason confessed, “Feels like I ate my own body weight in food today.”

“But you had a good time?”

“I had a great time,” Jason affirmed. “Thanks, for giving me a nice birthday.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Tim offered gently. “Especially after you came to my rescue during mine.”

“You hardly needed rescuing, least of all from me.”

“All the same, it’s nice knowing you have my back.”

“I do. Just tell me when you need me.”

“I will.”

Jason shifted, leaning forward a bit before taking half a step back. “I had better get in.”

“Oh wait, here” Tim jumped, fumbling one handed to open his bag. “Before I forget.” He passed Jason the neatly wrapped package, holding his breath as it was opened with surprising care. “I don’t take full credit; Alfred did most of the work.”

Jason flipped open the leather-bound book, his fingers skimming across Alfred’s familiar penmanship.

“I asked Alfred to pick out the recipes he knew were your favorite. He spent the last few weeks making the dishes and then I took photos of the final dish. And there are blank pages in the back so you can put in some of your own.”

“Thank you, Tim, this is…” Jason licked his lips, suddenly feeling rather hoarse. “This is a really- it’s great. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“I should…" he trailed off, thumbing behind him, "and you need to get across town too so…thanks, for today. I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, meeting Jason halfway for a hug, resisting any urge to linger too long. He pulled back, slipping his skateboard out and setting it on the ground as Jason climbed up the steps.

“Hey,” Tim called back, a surge of courage swelling inside him. Jason halted halfway through the door, swiveling back to look down at him. “There’s a regular farmers market, they do downtown on Thursdays, goes until October before it gets too cold. It’s not nearly as big as the fair is, but there still food and music and stuff, if you wanted to go sometime. Get ingredients for your cooking.”

Jason jerked his head quickly, “I’d like that.”

Tim nodded back, giving him a wave and a soft smile before he pushed his foot into the ground, skating down the sidewalk with a renewed sense of lightness.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please feel free to leave your thoughts, comments, or concerns. I hope you are staying safe and healthy and sane. Thank you to everyone who reads these, sending you my love! xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason let out a loud whistle, the sound drawing attentions from the girls, who turned their heads in his direction.
> 
> “Cynthia, your boy is here,” one of the girls called out, waving her hand towards Jason’s hiding place.
> 
> Cynthia stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street with a rapid click clack from her tall heels, moving into the narrow stretch of darkness. “You’re late,” she chided, prodding his chest. “I thought you were gonna stand me up.”
> 
> “I would never miss a date with my best girl,” Jason crooned.
> 
> She waved him off, leaning against the wall, her lips twisting coyly. “That’s what they all say, sweetie.”
> 
> “But I’m different,” Jason argued, keeping his distance.
> 
> “You sure are,” Cynthia agreed with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! Thank you so much for sticking with it, I hope the last chapter was a nice spot of lightness for you guys! But we most continue on. Please enjoy :)

Underneath what's detectable with eyes  
Every particle's vibrating with the one life

One

By Birdtalker

* * *

With a renewed sense of energy, Jason climbed the stairs to his apartment, taking them two at a time until he was sliding up to his door. His place was the same as he had left it hours prior, but the afternoon sun was illuminating it bright and golden, matching his own sense of internal lightness. Today had been exceptionally high on his list of good birthdays which had been few and far in between since his death. Spending civilian time with Tim had always felt different from when they were in uniform, almost intimate in a way Jason couldn’t really explain, and if it hadn’t been his birthday, today would have felt…kind of like a date.

Jason shook himself of the thought, immediately feeling too warm. He placed the new home-made cookbook into his kitchen cabinet, retreating to his bedroom where he collapsed on his bed, after depositing his new monkey friend on top of his dresser. It was earlier than he would usually nap, but the call for it was strong, and his eyelids flickered with heaviness until he was asleep.

When he woke, it was sudden. The sun still hung out his window, but it was low on the horizon now, and he managed to stay unmoved for a few hours before his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He rolled over, all tiredness gone, pulling out the device with a frown.

_Its 2night @ 11_

_I’ll meet you at the usual place._

Jason pulled himself from his bed, his heart dropping into his gut even as his brain began to run through the checklist he had been building in his head for weeks. He threw off his shirt, pushing down his unease in order to hurry to the bathroom, pulling out the supplies he had stocked away in his medicine cabinet.

The bleach smelled unpleasant as he saturated his hair, tips to scalp, but still not nearly as pungent as the ammonia in the hair dye which even being accustomed to still caused his nostrils to flare with distaste. He packed a bag while the dye set, taking another shower to rinse off the excess color when the timer went off.

Wiping the steamed-up mirror with his hand he checked for any irregular signs in the color before pushing the wet hair back away from his face. He leaned forward, peeling off the band aid, the small cut clotted and slightly bruised, but otherwise insignificant.

The bottom drawer slid open with a rattle, and he withdrew his shears and two different sized gauges. He ran it first along his entire head, the now auburn colored strands falling around his feet, then clipped the small one into place, cutting the bottom half down to a buzz. He took a notch out of his left eyebrow to create a memorable feature, and then shoved the tools away, carefully cleaning up any evidence of the dye job and haircut. The final touch was a pair of hazel colored contacts to dull out the vibrant teal green of his own eyes.

For the next hour, Jason skittered around his place. He stowed and locked away all his equipment and gear into the faux wall he had built in his closet. Each piece of laundry was gathered and tossed into the hamper, he made his bed, locked all the windows, cleared the fridge of perishables and gathered all the trash, leaving the bags by the door while he went to retrieve his duffel.

He stood hesitantly in his entry, teetering on the edge of a decision, phone in his hand. He released a shaky sigh, shutting off the device and placing it in a kitchen drawer, replacing it with an unused burner.

Trash in one hand and his bag slung over his shoulder, Jason locked the door and vacated the building, walking two blocks over and three down to toss his trash in the dumpster behind a deli. With his hood up and domino in place, he crossed the roof tops, slowed by his baggage but not deterred in his travels.

He dropped down from the top of a building, crouching down in the alley, spying a group of women gathered under a streetlight.

Jason let out a loud whistle, the sound drawing attentions from the girls, who turned their heads in his direction.

“Cynthia, your boy is here,” one of the girls called out, waving her hand towards Jason’s hiding place.

Cynthia stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street with a rapid click clack from her tall heels, moving into the narrow stretch of darkness. “You’re late,” she chided, prodding his chest. “I thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I would never miss a date with my best girl,” Jason crooned.

She waved him off, leaning against the wall, her lips twisting coyly. “That’s what they all say, sweetie.”

“But I’m different,” Jason argued, keeping his distance.

“You sure are,” Cynthia agreed with a laugh.

“So, what you got for me?” Jason asked, dropping his voice, so it didn’t reverberate around them.

“Word is he’s gonna be looking for some new muscle. Big raid from a few weeks back knocked down his numbers, any person interested is supposed to meet down in Sheldon Park at eleven to get more info.”

“Who told you?”

“One of the runners. Just a street kid, bought him some candy and told him I would tell any guy I thought might be interested. You were the first one I thought of,” Cynthia smirked. “Usual channels confirmed the info was good.”

“You are too good for me,” Jason thanked her, handing her a handful of cash for her trouble.

“I am too good for anyone,” she agreed, slipping the money into her tiny clutch.

“Where’s the phone I gave you?”

“Safest place I know,” she winked, cupping her right breast.

“Okay, smash it and toss it, I don’t want anything getting traced back to you.”

“It’s as good as in the bay,” she promised. “You got your friend filling in for you again? The one with all the jokes?”

“No,” Jason huffed. “He’s…out of the country right now. But I’ve got some projections set on timers, they’ll display holograms of me in different parts of the city, should keep things at bay and no one should even notice I’m gone.”

“You got bigger fish to catch up and fry up, don’t worry about us.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be out, but you can leave me notes here, I’ll check the loose brick once a week.”

Cynthia patted his arms affectionally, trying to alleviate his worry. “Everyone will be fine.”

“And if any Bats come poking around, you don’t know anything,” Jason pressed on, not edged away from his small panic. “You haven’t seen me, we haven’t talked.”

“I know the drill,” she smiled, “I promise, we will be okay.”

“Okay, okay...but Cynthia, if anything happens, if anything does go wrong and you need help, you go to Red Robin okay? You look for Red, he can help you.”

“That’s the sweet baby birdie I’ve seen you with now and again, ‘innit?” Cynthia asked, eyeing him shrewdly. “He must be alright if you workin’ with him.”

“You can trust him,” Jason swore, “Same as you trust me, just don’t tell him I sent you. Promise?”

“I don’t tell any man nothin’ I don’t want to tell,” she grinned before pulling Jason into a hug. “Be safe out there, Hood: if you don’t come back in one piece, you’ll have me to deal with and you don’t wanna put yourself on my bad side.”

“I will. Don’t forget to trash the phone, the sooner the better. I’ll be seein’ ya,” Jason launched his grapple, ascending back up to the roof, turning to face the direction of the neglected Sheldon Park.

Past the largest homeless encampment in the city, there was an abandoned duck pond where more nefarious and shady dealing occurred. Tonight, the ditch was half packed with people willing to do anything to get paid—and some of them, maybe, because they were just lousy people- but Jason recognized the look of most of them, left with no other choice when the rest of the world shut them out as unacceptable; an honest job was hard to find when the deck has been stacked against you from the start.

Jason shuffled around in his pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. They were not his usual brand, the flavor seared unpleasantly in his throat, the smell harsher and less comforting, but it wouldn’t do him any favors to leave any kind of personal identifier on him.

“Hey,” a voice greeted, sidling up beside him. “Mind if I bum a smoke?”

“Sure,” Jason shrugged offering out the carton and the lighter. “I’ma been thinkin’ o’ quitin’ anyway. Cheapest ones still makin’ my wallet too light, ‘ya know?”

“Yeah, but it really helps with the nerves,” He replied, handing them back and then extending his hand to shake. “I’m Damon.”

“Jackson,” Jason replied, taking the man’s callused hand, “Most people’s call me Jack or Jackie.”

“Where you from?”

“Brooklyn, but I’ve been down ‘ere in Gotham for a coupl’ o’ months.”

Damon shook his head, “Brooklyn must have been tough if you traded it for Gotham.”

“I was runnin’ more from certain people than the scenery.”

“You do work like this before?”

“Depends on what they lookin’ for,” Jason said with a flick of his cigarette. “I just heard they needed some muscle. Moving crates, guardin’ shipments and the like? Used to be a bouncer, did some bodyguard work for the old Italian types, figured this can’t be much different. How bout’ you?”

“I used to do overnight stocking at a supermarket, but I got laid off, my record ain’t helping me get hired and I’ve got a wife and kids, so here I am.”

Jason hummed in understanding. “What they get you for?”

“I got caught shoplifting in high school,” Damon mumbled, “Got tried as an adult. Shit like that follows you, man.”

“The system’s fucked.”

Damon nodded, stubbing out his cigarette when three black SUVs pulled into the lot opposite, headlights cutting slashes across the darkness. “Good luck, Jack.”

“You too.”

A group of men in suits descended amongst them, barking out orders on where to group themselves.

“Anyone with experience with weapons or hand to hand combat, line up on the right!”

“Techies or anyone good with computers in the center.”

“Hard labors on the left!”

Jason shuffled off to the right, joining up with the group of self-identified fighters. When everyone stopped moving, finding their place in the lineup, another figure dropped down, surveying them with an eerie silence.

“Do you all know who I am?”

A quiet murmur rippled through them, indicating their familiarity with him.

“Good,” Sionis muttered, and Jason could hear the smug smile he wore behind his ugly black skeletal façade. “Then you know what I’m here for and what I expect.”

Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, snapped his fingers, work lights switching on with near blinding intensity. “I’m going to walk down this line. If I nod, you will step forward, you will then strip down and my associates will examine you for any markings that could affiliate you with any group, gang, family, individual, or entity that I deem unacceptable. If you feel you meet any of that potential criteria, you should leave now. If you have active track marks, you should leave now. If there is any doubt in your mind that you will not be able to maintain an expressed loyalty to me, you should leave now.”

No one moved.

“Very well, let us begin.” He strode down to the far end and began making his evaluations. Jason couldn’t see what was happening from where he stood, but could hear the commotion as more people were pulled from the line for examination.

Halfway down the line, one of the minions called out gruffly, “Got a Triad, Boss.”

“No! Please don’t! I-“

“Kill him,” Black Mask ordered.

The shot rang out, the sound of the body crumpling into the ground following it, the men continuing down the line unbothered.

When he reached Jason, he grabbed by the jaw, leather gloves pressing into his skin as he pulled his mouth apart, examining the state of his teeth. He released Jason, giving him a singular nod before stepping in front of the next man, treating his face to the same rough grip.

Jason stepped forward, removing his clothes for the goon that followed his boss’s steps.

“Hands,” the man demanded, bringing a wet wipe rough across Jason’s knuckles. “Arms by your side.” The wipe dragged around his neck and down his chest. “Turn around.” He continued down his back and his arms, looking for any sign of coverup. “Face me.” He commanded, satisfied with the results. “You can fight?”

“Used’ta box.”

“Weapons?”

“Been shootin’ guns since I was a kid. Can handle a knife alright too.”

“Okay, get dressed and stay put.”

Jason redressed, waiting among the others who not been dismissed. Black Mask walked up and down them once more, conferring with a few of his men, before turning his gaze back on them.

“I’ll take you lot,” he finally said, “Get in the vans, and welcome to the team.”

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately Tim tensed walking into the cave, the air was charged and heavy, the eyes of the other occupants resting on him with a staggering weight.
> 
> “What?” Tim asked, knowing something must be very wrong. “What’s going on?”
> 
> “Tim,” Bruce said, “Why don’t you take a seat?”
> 
> “Why? Bruce-“
> 
> “Please, Tim.” Alfred spoke softly from behind Bruce’s shoulder, gesturing to the open seat across from them.
> 
> Tim scanned the room as he sat, searching for unspoken answers. Dick looked exhausted, slumped in his seat. Barbara appeared stricken, a stoic Cass beside her. Stephanie was sitting tight-lipped across from Dick, and Damian was leaning against a pillar slightly apart from the rest of the family, his face drawn and sour, but lacking any sense of his usual aggression.
> 
> “Bruce, what’s happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Sorry for the delay, I had a chapter written and then ended writing a new chapter that would come before that. So the order was changed up a little bit, and some more chapters were added. A little more drama ahead, so hold on.

Burn the scorecards, balance out the scales  
We are one wind distracted by our different sails

One

By Birdtalker

* * *

Stephanie was stretched out on Tim’s bed when he arrived back at the penthouse, one shoe off the other dangling precariously on her foot while flitting through her phone.

“Didn’t know you moved in,” Tim said, dropping his bag into a chair and sliding across the bed spread beside her.

“Well, I’ve been trying to contact you for hours, but since I never got a response, I figure this place must be up for grabs.”

Tim flushed, pulling his phone out and turning it back on. “Sorry, I forgot I turned it off.”

“Forgot you turned it off, I buy; forgot to turn it back on is a little harder to believe. You’re usually so much more aware.”

“My emergency phone was still on," Tim pointed out, "If you needed to get in touch with me, you could have called me there.”

“After three calls and no response, I assumed whatever was keeping you must have been very important.”

Tim skimmed through his phone, firing off a few quick replies and skimming through the notifications. “You didn’t leave any messages, so how important could it be?”

“I was at the manor with Bruce," Stephanie explained, setting her phone down. "He is going to ask you to go to San Francisco tonight, he was checking to see if I could split your patrol route with Cass while you’re gone.”

“I’m not due back with the Titans for another few weeks.”

“There’s a new security system he wants you to install and monitor at the Tower.”

Tim’s eyebrow lifted suspiciously. “And why did Bruce tell this to you before he asked me?”

“My guess,” Stephanie shrugged, "he wanted to make sure we could cover you before asking you to go. School starts for me at the end of the month, I think he was just trying to be considerate.”

“Of you and Cass.”

“What’s the problem?” She asked, rolling on to her side to observe him. “You love getting to spend time with your Tower Team. No Bruce to report to, no Damian to harass you. You always say you get more W.E. work done when you’re working remotely.”

“That’s not the point," Tim groaned. 

“Then what is the point? You said you and Kon weren’t fighting anymore.”

“We aren’t.”

“Even though you never really did explain why you started fighting to begin with,” Stephanie grumbled.

“Steph, please.”

“You’ve not developed feelings for him, have you?” She shot out suddenly, “Because no offense, but physically, I don’t think you could handle-”

“I do not have those kinds of feelings for him. And even if I did, I would never act on them, it would be unfair to Ca-” Tim bit his tongue sharply, halting his thought.

“To Cassie,” Steph finished for him

“Yeah,” Tim nodded. “For all his abilities, he certainly hasn’t taken any notice of that particular issue.”

“Well, maybe her Olympian heritage makes her harder to read? Or she is in better control of her anatomical functions.”

“That’s a reasonable theory.”

“He is a hunk though; I don’t blame her.”

“You want someone tall, dark, and handsome to sweep you off your feet?”

“I’d settle for nice, smart, and interested,” Steph smiled.

“What about that guy from your lit class?” Tim asked, wracking his memory for the details. “Ian…Ethan?”

“Erik,” Stephanie supplied, “Transferred to a special program out of state. And that was in the spring.”

“Plenty of fish in the sea.”

“If any of the new interns catch your eye, you let me know.”

Tim rolled his eyes, “I think HR would have a problem with me setting the interns up on dates.”

“You tell me when to stop by for coffee and I’ll do all the work.”

“Fine,” Tim agreed, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze before sliding back of the bed. “I better get over to see Bruce.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Stay as long as like,” Tim offered, picking up his things. “I’ll see you when I’m back?”

Stephanie’s face shifted, dropping slack with disappointment, “Yeah, sure…”

“What?”

“You’re really not going to tell me where you were today?”

“You didn’t ask,” Tim deflected.

“I used to not have to ask,” Steph countered sharply. “You used to just tell me things.”

“It was work stuff. I was just doing scouting for a new project,” Tim waved offhandedly, “Looking for vacant real estate.”

“Okay, fine. If you say so,” Stephanie shrugged. “I’ll see you when you get back. Be safe.”

“You too.” Tim paused in the doorway, his grip tightening on his backpack, “Can we…let’s uhh, talk when I get back, okay?”

She perked up slightly, giving him a more authentic smile before nodding. “Sounds good.”

Tim gave her a final wave, setting off to talk with Bruce. In a matter of hours, Tim was debriefed and flying off to San Francisco into the waiting arms of his Team. Cassie and Bart latched on with bone-crushing embraces and smiles rejoicing in the now completeness of their unit. Kon didn’t approach until Tim had been disentangled from their limbs, his hand closing delicately around Tim’s wrist, his eyes fixing him with a soft, beseeching look. Searching for indication of Tim’s approval, for permission to be close to him.

Tim slipped his hand from his grasp, hugging him with what he had hoped was close to his regular warmth and affection. “Hey Kon, how are you?”

“Better now that you’re back,” Kon’s gravelly voice uttered. 

“You act like it’s been ages,” Tim brushed off, slipping away from him as the others walked away. “We saw each other less than a month ago.”

Kon released Tim without difficulty but did not move further away. “It’s always too long. And I don’t like how the last few weeks have been between us.”

“Kon…”

“I don’t like any of this,” he pressed.

“I’m not asking you to.”

Kon’s dark blue eyes narrowed, “I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

“You are my best friend,” Tim assured him. “You are. So, just be my friend.”

“You want me to support-“

“No,” Tim shook his head. “I’m not even asking you to do that. I’m just asking you to leave it. I won’t even talk to you about it if you don’t want to. Just be my friend, okay? Can you do that?”

Kon swallowed hard, clearly struggling with the request, “Rob…”

“Can you do that?” Tim asked again.

“If that’s what you want,” Kon acquiesced with a sigh. “If that’s what going to make you happy.”

“Thank you,” Tim said, pulling him to another hug, which Kon returned after a slight moments pause.

“You want to go to bed?”

“Not yet,” Tim said reluctantly, wishing he could succumb to his exhaustion. “I’m going to start the install tonight. It’s going to take a few days to get the program fully downloaded.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it.”

Kon took his bag from him, taking it towards their rooms and leaving Tim to head down to the computer hub. He slid the flash drive into a USB port and waited for it to appear in his accessible drives. Tim pulled out his phone, his last text to Jason advising him of his sudden departure still unanswered. Jason was usually unreachable during what he jokingly called his “office hours”, but for fear of Jason taking his sudden leave of absence personally, Tim typed out a quick follow up text to initiate meeting up for tacos when he returned.

It was not the last text Tim sent which garnered no reply.

Over a month later Tim was touching back down in Gotham, burnt out on agitation and fury. He had only one destination in mind as he sat on the tarmac, waiting impatiently to disembark when a message from Bruce lit up his screen, instructing him that he was to come straight to the manor, no detours or pitstops allowed.

He half intended to disobey; so far down on the end of his rope that he was clinging to the frayed edges only by sheer force of will, but in the end thought better of it, setting his course to the manor despite his reservations.

Immediately Tim tensed walking into the cave, the air was charged and heavy, the eyes of the other occupants resting on him with a staggering weight.

“What?” Tim asked, knowing something must be very wrong. “What’s going on?”

“Tim,” Bruce said, “Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Why? Bruce-“

“Please, Tim.” Alfred spoke softly from behind Bruce’s shoulder, gesturing to the open seat across from them.

Tim scanned the room as he sat, searching for unspoken answers. Dick looked exhausted, slumped in his seat. Barbara appeared stricken, a stoic Cass beside her. Stephanie was sitting tight-lipped across from Dick, and Damian was leaning against a pillar slightly apart from the rest of the family, his face drawn and sour, but lacking any sense of his usual aggression.

“Bruce, what’s happened?”

“Jason is gone,” Bruce explained, the words visibly paining him to say.

Tim blinked, his pulse thrumming hotly. “Gone? Skipped town gone? Missing gone? I don’t understand.”

“He has been missing since his birthday,” Alfred expanded.

“No,” Tim shook his head frantically, “No, I saw him on his birthday.”

Bruce gave him a tight nod, “He was last seen that night, in Crime Alley.”

“We don’t have eyes everywhere. Barbara-“

“I haven’t been able to find him, Tim,” Barbara cut in, her voice quiet but firm. “My cameras caught him going across the rooftops in the Bowery. After that, I have nothing. I’ve had all my cameras flagging possible appearances, but I haven’t had any results.”

“He goes off with the Outlaws all the time," Tim reasoned earnestly, "he's probably with them.”

Dick shook his head, straightening up slightly, but his own sorrow still evident is his body. “No. I got a hold of Roy, he and Kori have been in Tamaran since before he vanished. And they haven’t heard from him.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Tim swallowed hard, his hands going into fists under the table.

“We didn’t know he was officially gone until last week,” Barbara explained. “There had been regular sightings in Crime Alley, but I sent Cass to check on him when I had called his comm link and didn’t get a reply, but those were just disc projections that I assume he set up in case of emergencies.”

“And you didn’t think to bring me home right away?” Tim asked, shooting Bruce with an accusing look, his nose flaring.

“Cass thought it would be better to wait. She suggested we tell you as a family.”

Tim looked at them, his mouth opening and closing slightly as he processed what was happening.

Barbara leaned forward slightly, reaching her hand out to take his, but hesitating, “I know you and Jason have been spending time together…”

“And if you knew anything about his disappearing, you would have been the first to raise the alarm,” Bruce said, picking up where Barbara had lost momentum.

“He didn’t…he didn’t’ say anything.”

“Did he mention anything or do anything that would you lead you to believe he vanished on his own volition?”

“He hasn’t been returning my messages,” Tim muttered, his breath beginning to move in and out irregularly. “But I thought…I don’t know, I just thought…it’s not the first time he’s gone silent on me I just thought he was…oh my god—"

“Tim,” Dick pleaded, “try to stay calm.”

“We’ve sent drones through the bay, but we haven’t recovered his body-”

“You think he’s dead?” Tim gasped, staring horrified at Bruce.

“With how long he has been missing, it seems likely-”

“No! Jason can’t be dead, he’s…”

“Timothy,” Alfred said quietly, “as much as I want to believe he is well, I too have not received any contact from Jason. And the last few times he has gone off the grid, he has reached out to me.”

“It’s some kind of misunderstanding,” Tim started to argue. “Or he’s been taken and we’re just missing the clues, give me the file and I’ll find what we’re missing, I can go to his apartment-“

“We’ve been to his apartment, Tim,” Stephanie sighed, “Me and Cass, Barbara sent us. We’ve been to all his safe houses.”

“You just don’t know what to look for!” Tim snapped

“I know I’m not the same detective as you, Tim, but I know how to look for signs of a break-in or struggle.”

“But you don’t know Jason!”

Dick stood from his seat, drifting dejectedly towards Damian, “None of us know him that well, Tim.”

“I’m going to keep looking, Tim.” Bruce promised. “But we need to accept the reality that it is very likely he is dead.”

“You’re wrong. I’ll prove it,” Tim swore, “I’ll find him.”

“No, Tim,” Bruce said flatly, “I’m not allowing you on this case.”

“What?!”

“I think you’re too compromised, I think your emotional investment will cloud your judgment, and any errors won’t do us any good.”

“He’s your son! You don’t think you’re in danger of being compromised?”

“I have more experience to handle this effectively.”

“You can’t bench me from this!” Tim protested, slamming his palms so hard into the table that it shook.

“Cassandra,” Bruce addressed her suddenly, “Am I making the right call in keeping Tim from the case?”

“Yes,” Cass said without hesitation.

“Cass!”

Bruce ignored Tim’s growing protestations, “And to make sure, I’m asking you to stay at the manor for now.”

“No!” Tim shouted.

“Then, I’m telling you,” Bruce barked back. “You’re on lockdown until further notice.”

“I can help you!” Tim fumed, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I need to do what’s best for our family,” Bruce said resolutely, no longer looking at Tim.

Tim pushed away from the table, grabbing the chair by the back as he slid away, throwing it furiously across the floor and storming out of the cave.

The first week, he locked himself in his room out of spite. The subsequent weeks, having heard no news of Jason’s whereabouts had him confined to his bed, drained of any motivation to move, his waning state of health drawing attention for everyone.

“Drake…” Damian started, his hard tones softening around the edges. “Timothy, I brought you dinner. Alfred made your favorite.”

“I’m not hungry,” Tim replied from under his covers.

“You haven’t been eating. You can’t keep your strength up without proper sustenance.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You’ll make yourself the weakest in this family if you keep this up,” Damian chided. “It is unbecoming.”

“I don’t care,” Tim mumbled, sliding further down into his bed.

Damian set the tray onto Tim’s bedside table, frowning deeply at the Tim-shaped lump. “I did not waste my time to know Todd well, but I can guess he wouldn’t wish to see you this way. You should take that into consideration before you subject yourself to irreversible damage. While I know I will eventually assume leadership of the Titans, it is not my time yet to do so…I have much I can still learn…things I still need to learn from you. Don’t disappoint me.” He left with that, halting outside the hall to see Stephanie standing across from the door.

“What is the matter with him?” Damian asked her.

“I don’t know,” she huffed, walking past him, “but I’m going to find out.”

Stephanie shut the door with a harsh bang, alerting Tim of her arrival. She strode to his bedside, snatching at the covers to rip them away. “Get up.”

“No,” Tim growled, pulling them back up.

“I’m done with this hissy fit,” Stephanie snapped. “So, Bruce wouldn’t let you on the case, so what? You really think you would have found something when he couldn’t? You need to get over yourself.”

“Fuck off!”

Stephanie recoiled at Tim’s outburst, he wasn’t prone to foul language and when he was, it had never been directed at her. “Just because Jason kicked it doesn’t mean you have to take over his position as resident asshole.”

“Shut up!” Tim continued to shout. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“I know he was a Robin you respected, but you’re taking this way too far Tim, he was barely one of us!”

“You don’t know anything,” Tim shook, his eyes beginning to water, “You don’t know anything about him and you didn’t even care to, so would you please just go?”

“Shit, Tim,” Stephanie groaned dejectedly, “you’re acting like it’s Dick or Kon.”

“Don’t.”

She dragged her hands fitfully through her hair, failing to find justifications for Tim’s behavior. “Worse even, you’re acting like you’re- God, I don’t even know, you’re acting you were in love with the guy.”

Tim sucked in a sharp breath, and it lodged like stone in his throat, his fingers grasping tightly at his comforter. “Please go?” He begged miserably. 

“What?”

“Please.”

“Oh my god…” Stephanie exhaled slowly, her eyes blinking wide as she dropped stricken onto his bed. “Tim, no…No, why would you…Tim?”

The tears tipped over the line of his eyes, the rattling gasp tearing from his lungs as he dissolved into sobs, muffled only by the pillows he tried to bury himself within.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any Stephanie's fans, I know this wasn't really a shinning moment for her. But things should get better now that she knows what time has been hiding from her. I hope everyone is still enjoying the story, thank you so much forsticking with it. I hope you are all staying, safe and healthy. Have a happy Halloween!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The delicate clicks of polished shoes against concrete drew Jason’s attention, and he turned to see Black Mask emerging from the dark in an attention grabbing five-piece suit. He surveyed the room, shifting direction to draw closer to Jason, slipping the mask off and setting it atop a crate, drawing a box out with a practiced flourish of his gloved hand.
> 
> “Jack, you smoke, don’t you?” Sionis asked, his voice cloying, “Gimme a light?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I bet you didn't except to see me again so soon, but I wanted a special update to give you all a Halloween treat (Or is it a trick?) Naw, it isn't a trick, enjoy!

If we keep running around deciding who's right and wrong  
Then tell me, where are we headed?  
  


One

By Birdtalker

* * *

Jason stood outside the large rolling door of the warehouse, gun held at the ready as the dockhands finished loading the cargo off the trucks and into the large space. Damon doubled back to Jason once the last box had settled into place, wiping his hands against his thick work pants.

“Hey Jackie, how’s it going?”

“A’ight,” Jason nodded, relaxing slightly; two months into living his role as Jackson, the mannerisms were set and second nature to him. “Another night at the office.”

“I don’t know how you do these twelve-to-six shifts, I’ve been haggling for the ten-to-twos and it’s been murder.”

“That’s cause you’ve got a wife in bed waiting for you,” Jason teased. “How’s Nadine adjusting?”

“She’s good, I told her I got a supervising role, more money, less hours,” Damon dragged his foot self-consciously into the ground, “Don’t feel good about lying to her though.”

“Don’t envy you that.”

“Look,” Damon smiled, pulling out his phone and flicking through his photos to show Jason a picture. Damon shined brightly from the screen, his arms around his wife Nadine, their five year old daughter holding onto their baby boy, his pudgy hands locked deep within her gravity-defying curls. “Mason turned one a few weeks ago, this is from his birthday.”

“That’s a good-looking family,” Jason said, handing the phone back.

“If this money stays good, I can let Adaline start taking ballet lessons in the summer. She saw Misty Copeland on the cover of a magazine and now she wants to be a star with the New York Ballet.”

Jason chuckled, “I never seen no ballet, but I’d get tickets if your kid was in one.”

Damon put his phone away, rubbing his hands together for warmth as he watched Jason with side long, worried expression, “You really don’t have a family, Jack? No one special in your life?”

“We can’t all be as lucky as you."

“You just…the way you look sometimes…”

Jason went ridged, flicking a quick look over to his friend. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re heartbroken,” Damon shrugged, “Like you’re in love, but it’s killing you.”

He straightened at Damon’s deduction, dropping his voice with a furtive glance around them. “Don’t say shit like that, Damon, people ‘round here will think I’m soft.”

“I’m not saying it to anyone else. Just…I’m sorry, man, kind of worried about you. If I didn’t have Nadine…”

“Seriously, I’m okay,” Jason assured him, taking a few swallows to loosen the tightness in his throat, “It ain’t nothing like that, anyway. I mean, there is… kind of _was_ somebody, but nothing like what you’ve got. Nothing that would’ve have worked either, I’d never have been good enough.”

“You know,” Damon frowned, “People who aren’t good enough don’t actually think about whether or not they're good enough.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jason dismissed, leaning a little closer, “Look, uhhh, some guy gave me this card. And I wouldn’t do anything for someone like me, but I think you could really use it.” Jason slipped a white business card for the Martha Wayne Foundation Outreach into Damon’s hand, who tucked it away without a glance.

“Thanks.”

“Be careful out there.”

“You too, Jackie.”

“Hey Jackson!" A raspy voice shot through the dark. "Rotation, you’ve got cargo duty now.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Jason called back, taking a few steps away from his post, “See you around, Damon, check out that thing.”

“Okay, good looking out,” He gave Jason a little punch in the arm, starting on his way home, “Try to stay out of too much trouble.”

Jason nodded, Pete taking over his place by the door as he wound his way through the building. The other men were spread out, positioned at windows and other doors and by the stacks of smuggled goods. Jason took an isolated spot below the catwalk, near the darkened hallway that led out to the front entrance.

The delicate clicks of polished shoes against concrete drew Jason’s attention, and he turned to see Black Mask emerging from the dark in an attention grabbing five-piece suit. He surveyed the room, shifting direction to draw closer to Jason, slipping the mask off and setting it atop a crate, drawing a box out with a practiced flourish of his gloved hand.

“Jack, you smoke, don’t you?” Sionis asked, his voice cloying, “Gimme a light?”

Jason grabbed the strap of his gun, pulling it so the weapon hung across his back and he delved into his pocket, his finger grazing against the engraved side of the metal lighter, panic bursting suddenly through him like a flash grenade before he gathered himself again. “Allow me, Boss,” Jason offered, swopping his hand up and shading the tip of Sionis’ expensive imported cigar to ignite it, slipping Tim’s gift back out of sight, cursing himself again for not leaving it at his apartment in the first place.

“They raise you New York boys with some manners,” Sionis smiled through a plume of heady grey smoke, “Should start looking there for my hires.”

“I was always told to say thank you when a meal was set in front o’ me. Ain’t no meals without you’s, Boss.”

Sionis eyed him with sharp appraisal, his narrow mouth closing around the cigar to take another deep draw. “How do you like Gotham, Jack? Is it the cesspool you’ve heard about?”

“It’s not so bad,” Jason grunted, “Found a deli that makes a great Reuben, so no complaints from me.”

“I love Gotham,” Sionis crooned, “It’s got something old, something new, local sports team, all four seasons- A very corruptible police force, if you talk to the right people. I chose this city for a reason: a man can come to Gotham and be anything he wants.”

“And this is what you’s wanted?”

“An empire, Jack. A long reach, power, influence… hands in the pies of my own making, as it were.”

“You’s a powerful guy, Boss.”

He nodded in agreement, but a worried crease pinched the space between his eyes. “There is one downside to Gotham, of course. She has a rodent problem.”

“Oh, you get rats everywhere, Boss,” Jason assured him, “Specially down by the water, but they ain’t so bad.”

“No, Jack, not _those_ rodents.”

Jason released a sharp ‘oh’ of understanding, “You mean the Batmaniac guy?”

“Him and his brood of deviant associates,” He seethed, “You haven’t had any dealings?”

“No, sir. Never seen the guy, but you’s runs such a tight ship, they wouldn’t know’s nothing about this. There’s a glowy green guy in New York sometimes, but I’ve never delt with him either.”

“The Bats have been a thorn in my side since I’ve started, especially this _shithead_ in the red helmet who keeps interfering with my system. It’s why picking an area to work out of is so crucial. The reality is, they are just the same as any of us, working out of territories, terrorizing who they want to get what they need. But they want to think they’re so much better. False piety is something I abhor, Jack: it’s an extremely unattractive quality in a person.”

“S’why I don’t go to church.”

“You have a good head on your shoulders, Jack. I can see you going places here. You work hard, keep your head down. I like that,” Sionis purred, “I like you.”

“Well, thank you, Boss,” Jason replied, squashing down the sick feeling in his stomach the interaction was causing him, “It’s an honor.”

Sionis looked down his watch, stubbing out his cigar and placing it back into the silver case which he returned to the inner pocket of his suit jacket, “You make it out of all this, could be a promotion in it for you.”

Jason frowned, keeping his voice light but inquisitive, “Out of what, Boss?”

“Best thing to do when you have a vermin problem, Jack,” He smirked, slipping his mask onto his face and turning back into the dark. “You set a trap.”

The moment Jason heard the front door close, he reached for his knife, lodging it between the small space where the lid of the crate met the base and jimmied around, dislodging it with a splintering crack. He reached for the bags, slicing it open and overturning it on to his hand, the coarse, cold grains of the sand spilling out with a rain-like hiss. Dropping the bait, Jason scanned the room, counting the number of men and potential entrance and exit points. His eyes landed on the ceiling, noticing the oddly placed netting attached to the rafters for the first time.

The sharp burst of gun fire cut through the air, joined by the screech of tires and the grind of metal against metal as the Batmobile skid through the loading door. Glass rained down from above as several figures dropped from the ceiling, two of them directly into the awaiting nets.

Cass hit the ground with a roll, taking two guys out with a quick combination, deftly clambering up the crates to reach Stephanie, helping her cut her way out of her entrapments.

Tim was the furthest away, facilitating his own escape from the net, crawling up it to slip through the gap where it had been tied, Bruce and Damian drawing away the fire as they launched out of the vehicle. Jason’s brain finally caught up with his anxious heart, quickly formulating a plan before this turned into a bloodbath.

He ducked behind the boxes, keeping low and out of sight, heading toward pallets that had been packed in first, stacked almost pyramid-shaped in the center of the room.

Jason started to climb, crawling his way towards the topmost crate, stopping abruptly as one of the other guards rounded behind a pillar, lining up to take a shot at Tim, who was fighting off a group of thugs with his staff. Only Jason’s years of experience made him beat the other man to the trigger, the semi-automatic withdrawn from his back and aimed precisely, the bullet ripping through other shooters thigh and forcing him down, even as Tim turned, his staff smacking the gun from his would-be killer’s grip.

Ducking back behind his blockade, Jason moved higher, bracing his feet against the raised edge of a two-by-four and shoving against the highest box as hard as he could. It teetered, the weight pulling it forward so that it crashed down, smashing into the floor in a burst of wood and dust, the sand spilling out in waves.

Bruce pieced it together as quickly as Jason hoped, the nonexistent contraband triggering his “this is a trap” instincts, and he could see the others begin to withdraw at his command. Jason stayed on top his high ground just long enough to see the blades of Tim’s cape disappear from sight before dropping down hard. He fired off a few wide rounds, knocked the back of his hands against a wall hard enough to bruise his knuckles and slipped amongst the others as they staggered to regain their bearings.

Jason wobbled over the shifting rubble, scanning the area to be sure the Bats had cleared when he saw it, secured flat against the catwalk Jason had been under earlier, a grey wrapped TNT pack, the red timer blinking through the dusty air.

“Bomb!” He yelled as loud as he could, sprinting into the open night, everyone scrambling like rats on a sinking ship. Jason went straight towards the water, his feet pounding against the rotting wood pier when the explosion went off from behind him, the heat rolling against his back even as he hit the murky ice water of the harbor.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all having a safe and happy Halloween! I know you guys were worried about your boys in the last chapter and this probably doesn't help alleviate the fears, but hang in there!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s getting cold.”
> 
> Tim exhaled, his breath puffing out in a fog. “Been cold.”
> 
> “You’re usually home by now.” Barbara commented carefully.
> 
> “You know me O, overtime is my best friend.”
> 
> “Go home Red, get some rest.”
> 
> Tim smiled weakly, looking up into the starless grey sky. “Is that an order?”
> 
> “It’s about to be,” she warned, her tone firm but joking.
> 
> “Alright,” Tim submitted, “I’ll go.”
> 
> “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! If you are in the states I hope you are able to stay calm during the election anxiety. I do hope all of you are staying safe, and sane, and healthy.

How can we all belong  
When all our logic is colliding  
And it's constantly dividing me from you  
  


One

By Birdtalker

* * *

Tim was perched next to a gargoyle on one of the buildings in the upper east side. It wasn’t one of the originals that littered old Gotham, but a reproduction the city had commissioned to tie the new part of the city into the old. They weren’t the same. They weren’t composed of the same sediments, the texture was off, the smell when it rained didn’t invoke the same feeling of home that the others provided. But Tim couldn’t bring himself to visit those gargoyles now.

“ _It’s getting cold.”_

Tim exhaled, his breath puffing out in a fog. “Been cold.”

“ _You’re usually home by now.”_ Barbara commented carefully.

“You know me O, overtime is my best friend.”

_“Go home Red, get some rest.”_

Tim smiled weakly, looking up into the starless grey sky. “Is that an order?”

 _“It’s about to be,”_ she warned, her tone joking but firm.

“Alright,” Tim submitted, “I’ll go.”

_“Thank you.”_

“Going dark.”

A small hiss of sound cut across the line, and Tim paused, waiting for her to continue.

_“Hey, brunch this weekend? Sunday?”_

“Okay.”

_“Don’t stand me up.”_

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tim ended the call, straightening up to stand in survey of the city. Barbara was right, it was too late and too cold to be out contemplating gargoyles. He reached for his grapple, fingers closing around the handle when an alarm burst shrilly from his hip. The grapple forgotten, he slipped out the monitoring device, a red light blinking in the coordinate grid. With an exasperated sigh, he cut power to the building in question, withdrawing his gun fully to fire it the opposite way of his apartment, swinging instead towards the inconvenient break in.

Tim dropped silently down onto the fire escape, switching his cowl over to night mode and peering into the dark abyss. A lone figure roamed the space, rummaging hastily through a set of drawers. Soundlessly, Tim slipped through the window, sliding the pane back in place and gliding away. Tim could hear the drawer shut with a snap, the trespasser tensed at the sudden appearing and disappearing draft. He stilled, before backing away from the counter, the footsteps hitting steadily against the floor as they sought out the new presence in the room.

Tim crouched behind the counter, waiting as the steps drew nearer, launching himself into their midsection once they were in view.

The hit was solid, but so was the body Tim crashed into, and he grunted with the strain as they crashed into the floor. Tim scrambled to stay on top, reaching out to restrain the man’s flailing arms, which drew back with skill to start punching. Quickly, Tim bent backwards, leaning out of range of a right hook that glanced off his jaw. 

The intruder threw his weight forward, trapping Tim against the floor, his head hitting the ground with a solid smack. Bending his knees inwards, Tim shoved the feet of his boots against his opponent’s stomach, launching him away and rolling backward to regain his own footing. Blinking past the wave of dizziness, Tim reached for his bo when the click of a gun being cocked froze him.

“Don’t fuckin’ _move_.”

Tim choked, his body seizing up, an acrid sense of nausea rising in his belly, his voice grating hoarse against his suddenly dry throat. “Oh my god- Jason?”

“Tim?”

Tim scrambled, ripping off his cowl and digging in his belt for his control to restore the power. He could hear Jason moving around in the dark when the lights finally blinked back into life, and there he was, standing barely a few feet away. Real and alive.

Tim all but fell forward, his arms looping into a vice around Jason’s neck who circled his own arms around Tim’s back, taking his full weight against him.

“You’re okay,” Tim breathed, his voice still shaking and warm against Jason’s collar. “I don’t believe it, you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Jason reassured him, tightening his own grip, ill-prepared to be seeing Tim. “I am, I’m okay. What are you doing here?” He pulled back slightly, peering bewildered into Tim’s too-blue eyes.

“What am I-” Tim stuttered, trying to regather his composure, “I thought someone was breaking in, you tripped one of my sensors.”

“Why did you put up sensors?”

“I put them up when you went missing! But that was-I…” Tim swallowed hard, his voice wavering soft again, “I thought you were dead.”

Jason pulled Tim back against him, tucking his head under his chin and rubbing soothing circles against his back, “I’m not. I’m fine, I’m so sorry, I’m okay. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Tim extracted himself abruptly, “Worry me?” He hissed, his brow pinched, the sense of overwhelming wonder at Jason’s return dissipating into fury. “Jason, you’ve been gone for almost six months! No one knew where you were, no one had heard from you. We all thought you were dead!”

“I’m sorry-”

“Roy and Kori landed earth-side three months ago and they had no idea what happened to you either.”

“I can explain-”

“Even Barbara couldn’t find you-”

“Tim, please,” Jason urged softly, “You need to calm down.”

Jason watched helpless as Tim began to pace, his breath coming in short bursts as he tried to regain control. It was now he could see Tim fully, garbed in an altered uniform. The yellow cross straps were gone, replaced with a deep red V, his cape now attached by his circular emblem on his chest. He had grown at least two inches, his chest and legs both appeared slightly broader than they been when he left. But the biggest change was the missing length of his hair, the back he had so often pulled into a hair tie was cropped short against his head, the only length left was shaggy bangs that curtained on either side of his face.

“Where have you been?” Tim demanded sharply.

“I think you should sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Tim,” Jason sighed, “this isn’t-”

“Explain!” Tim snapped, halting against the wall, staring Jason down with cold determination, “You said you could explain, so do it. Why did you disappear on me, on everyone?”

Jason swallowed, taking a tentative step forward, “I was undercover. It was an infiltration mission, and it came up very suddenly. I would have notified you, but there wasn’t time to-”

“Bullshit,” Tim fumed, causing Jason to balk at the venom. “Don’t lie to me. No time? No time to tell somebody, _anybody_ that you were going off the grid for six months?”

“I didn’t know I would be gone that long,” Jason argued.

“All the more reason to tell someone!” Tim shot back. “You have people who could help you.”

Jason scoffed loudly, crossing his arms, “I seem to remember you going off radar to bust up a trafficking ring not too long ago.”

“That was different,” Tim frowned.

“How?”

“I told Barbara! I had a very precise plan in place.”

“And a lot of good it did you,” Jason spat, his own anger splashing green against the inside of his eyes, “You would have ended up overdosed and dead if I hadn’t shown up.”

Tim bristled, his eyes narrowing. “Well, at least people would have known where to find me,” he seethed through his teeth, “They wouldn’t have spent months looking and wondering and having to deal with all the “what ifs” that come with someone they care about disappearing in a matter of hours of having seen them last. Not to mention the fear, the guilt, and the paranoia that goes along with it.”

“I couldn’t risk any of you trying to check up on me.”

“So, letting us mourn you for dead, that’s the better option?”

“You should all know I’m stronger than that. I’m not that easy to get rid of anymore.”

“Assuming an individual’s ability to cheat death in our line of work goes so far beyond hubris, Jason, don’t be obtuse.”

“I guess we can’t all be as smart and clever as you, Pretty Bird,” Jason mocked, “Must be so hard for you, genius that you are, always planning, and figuring, and plotting, only to have us stupid commoners mess it all up.”

Tim pushed away from the wall, resuming his pacing, “I did not say you were stupid. You’re smart, Jason, smarter than this-- which is why I’m so angry!”

“It wasn’t your call!” Jason yelled. “I don’t work for Batman. I don’t have to work with any of you if I don’t want to. My territory, my rules. Black Mask is my responsibility and if I-”

“Black Mask,” Tim said flatly, turning back mid step.

“Tim-”

“That’s where you were this whole time? With him? Here in Gotham.”

Jason took a slow lungful of air, trying to push his frustration back. “I needed to know what he was doing. There wasn’t any way to get close enough except for infiltrating his ranks.”

“Oh my god,” Tim breathed, his eyes opening wide and his lips parting with a clouded look of revelation and despair. “You were there, at the docks. That was _you_ , you shot that guy through the leg.”

“Tim..”

“I thought I was going crazy,” Tim dry-sobbed, shaking. “I thought my brain was…making me see you places. Turning thugs with anything remotely resembling your build into ghosts of you, I was losing my mind, I thought-”

“I’m sorry,” Jason apologized, his hands hanging helpless at his side and he resisted the urge to go to him. “Tim, I’m sorry, I didn’t do any of this with the intention of hurting you.”

Tim’s face shifted suddenly, the way it did when he needed to do a quick calculation. “Black Mask was sent to Blackgate almost two months ago,” he said slowly.

Jason nodded carefully, “…yes.”

“But you’ve just come back to your apartment tonight,” Tim continued sharply. “That doesn’t account for the additional six weeks.”

“It wasn’t as simple as-”

“You know what, Jason, don’t bother,” Tim insisted, sliding the window open and climbing onto the fire escape. Snow had begun to fall in large white puffs, collecting in his hair and uniform before dissolving into nothing as he raised his grapple into the sky, the tension pulling him away from Jason.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited again! Though not as teary eyed and lovely as a reunion as I wish I could have given you guys, but the tension, i just can't help it. Still more to come, I hope you are all staying well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why did you go about it the way you did?” Barbara asked.
> 
> Jason exhaled, his mouth pursing tightly as his knee began to bounce nervously. “Because I thought- I just wanted…”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “I was scared,” Jason confessed softly, “I was scared of what would happen if T- any of you knew. Scared of what that would mean.”
> 
> “And now what?”
> 
> “I’m scared Tim won’t talk to me again.”
> 
> “It is unlikely given the circle we run in that he won’t talk to you ever again.”
> 
> “I don’t want him to talk to me because he has too,” Jason mumbled. “I want him to talk to me because he wants to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Second to last chapter in this installment. Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos, they really do make my day. I hope everyone is doing well, keep staying safe and sane, and I hope you are all in good health.

So damn those eager protestations on your tongue  
Shut your brain up long enough to hear the lowly hum

One

By Birdtalker

* * *

The snow gave way under the weight of Jason’s steps, his boots marking deep divots as he crossed the roof top. His face burned where the cold night air pressed against it, bitter and angry in the way that Gotham winters were. Jason buried his nose in the stiff upturn of his jacket collar, steeling himself with a breath in the hopes that his own idiocy wouldn’t be the death of him.

Resigned to his decision, he raised his hands, cupping them around his mouth to ensure amplification over the wind, “This is Jason Todd, calling Conner Kent, over.”

By the time Jason finished speaking and dropped his hands by his sides, a grip had locked around his throat, lifting him from the ground. With his air flow suddenly obstructed, Jason choked, latching onto Kon’s ridged forearm to try and support his now hanging body.

“I could kill you right now,” Kon seethed, “it would be easier than blinking.” His fingers tightened around Jason’s neck, his eyes flooding neon red.

“I was hoping we could talk first,” Jason gasped, his fingers digging hard, but making no indentations in Kon’s impenetrable flesh.

“Before I end your miserable excuse of an existence?”

Jason wheezed, blinking rapidly as black spots began clouding his eyes. “It would be my preference.”

Reluctantly, Kon released his hold, letting Jason drop into a heap on the icy roof while he gently floated down, his eyes returning to their regular blue. “You have a lot of nerve calling for me.”

“You weren’t my first choice,” Jason coughed, rubbing his neck, and standing, “But I’m getting cold shoulders from the Bats I’ve contacted and no one will tell me what I want to know.”

“If you think I’m going to give you anything you want, your resurrected zombie brain is even more damaged than I thought.”

“Sticks and stones, Clone Boy, let’s not bring humanity into it.”

Kon crossed his arms, his muscles flexing threateningly. “What is it you want, exactly?”

“I want to talk about Tim,” Jason admitted carefully.

“You can go straight back to hell. You don’t even deserve to say his name after what you pulled.”

“Sometimes, this job requires sacrifices,” Jason frowned, daring to make an aggressive step forward. “I didn’t want to be gone for that long, but not everything is within my control. I’m back, I’m trying to make things better, but I can’t even get a hold of him now. Can you please…will you _please_ tell me where he lives now? Or If he’s staying with you at the tower? Or at the manor? I can’t find him.”

“Well at least you know a fraction of what Tim was feeling while you were gone,” Kon hissed. “Maybe your coping mechanism will be better than his.”

“Excuse me?”

“You thought he was obsessive before? The number of cases he’s been taking on now, the amount of time he’s put into training himself to exhaustion, the sleepless nights spent looking for you. He’s been a mess.”

“I fucked up!” Jason agreed emphatically, “I know I fucked up, but I can’t fix things with him if he won’t talk to me.”

“I warned him, you know,” Kon glared, beginning to pace agitatedly. “I did, I tried to tell him, to make him understand that this _thing_ with you two was a bad idea. Tim is good; he is too good and gives and gives and he’ll do anything for his friends, but you just take what you want. You don’t care about anybody but yourself. And the fact that you are using this undercover op as your scape goat for your emotional ineptitude just shows how right I was. It is a danger to him to have you as a friend. You’re going to drain him of everything he has, vanish into nothing and then I’m going to be the one picking up the pieces.”

“Telling him would have put him in danger.”

“Then, lie! I don’t care if you had told him the truth or not, you could have told him anything! Any kind of warning, any hint at all that you had to bounce would have stopped all of this.”

“You think that would have been better for him?” Jason spat, “You don’t think he would have seen through whatever lie I crafted and hunted me down? Tried to help me? Pull me out, _risk himself_ if things turned? Because that’s the kind of thing that idiot does for his friends and you know it.”

“You strike me as a convincing liar.”

“I was trying to protect him. You have to understand that. You, of all people.”

“I do understand that,” Kon scoffed, “which is why I should have done a better job protecting him from you.”

“Yeah, I know, you don’t like me, you don’t want Tim and I to be friends,” Jason huffed, “but I care a lot less about what you want or more about what he wants.”

“What he wants is for you to leave him alone,” Kon supplied.

“If that’s what he wants, then I want him to tell me that.”

“What other message could you possibly be receiving from his obvious avoidance of you?”

“I want-”

“I know what you want, Jason,” Kon cut in sharply, his body pulled tight with tension, “I’ve known what you’ve wanted since you showed up at the Tower. And then you confirmed it at his birthday. You Waynes' are all the same: you think you’re so controlled, so above basic human behaviors. But despite what you believe, your heart rate elevates, your pupils dilate, you perspire, your hormone levels change. You cannot control those things about yourself. You _want_ Tim. And now you are so desperate, you’ve stooped to asking me for help. So, you want something from me? Here’s some advice; if you lay a hand on him, if you so much as touch him with one of your grubby fingers I will end you. Damn the consequences, damn your Dad’s rules about Metas in his city. I will crush you.”

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

“I _know_ you’re afraid of me.”

“I’ve already died. I don’t scare so easy,” Jason smirked.

“Do us all a favor and go off planet,” Kon said, shouldering past him.

“And deny myself the satisfaction that my very existence irritates you?” Jason tutted. “I think I’ll stay.”

“I don’t know what he sees in you,” Kon venomously said through his teeth.

“Something he likes.”

“Liked,” he countered, “Tim doesn’t avoid people he likes.”

“He’s avoided you before,” Jason pointed out smugly.

“Friends fight.”

“And then they make up. But you don’t want me and Tim to do that. Why?” Jason asked sarcastically. “Because it’s too hard for you to share?”

“I’m not the selfish one here!”

“No,” Jason snapped viciously, “you’re the jealous one.”

Kon pulled back, punching Jason across the jaw, the force knocking him off his feet and into the ground. “ _You’re not good for him_. This city is a virus and that is exactly what you are. He thinks being friends with you won’t hurt him, but it has. So, why don’t you think about that before you make any other attempts to interrupt his life?”

With one last withering look, Kon took off, leaving Jason in a heap, with the cold and wet seeping into his clothes. He grabbed a handful of snow, pressing against his throbbing jaw with a hiss, spitting away the taste of copper from his mouth.

Once his compress had melted away, he regained his footing, clambering down the side of the building and back onto the streets. The sidewalks were mostly shoveled clear, and it made his walk to the Clock Tower fairly easy, even with the cold.

When the elevator door rattled open and Barbara made no move of surprise to see him there, he walked in without any invitation. There was already a chair pulled up next to her desk and cup of tea steaming beside it, and it looked very inviting after his frigid stroll.

“Voyeur,” Jason chided, coming up behind her.

“It’s my job,” she replied, leaning away from her panorama of screens, “Sit down and let me look at your face.”

Jason dropped into the seat, squinting as she turned the bendable neck of her desk lamp to illuminate the injured half of his face. She rolled closer to him, prodding along for any floating pieces of bones, the shape of Kon’s knuckles already starting to appear in bruises.

“That is amazing,” Barbara mumbled softly.

“What?”

“His sense of control. He hit you exactly as hard as could without breaking anything.”

“Great,” Jason grunted, pulling back to take up the hot mug. “I’ll send him a thank-you card.”

“Did you deserve it?” Barbara asked evenly.

“You weren’t listening?”

“No.”

“Because there wasn’t audio or because you didn’t want to?”

“Both,” Barbara shrugged, reaching for her own cup.

Jason took a few cautious sips, watching her carefully. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, Jason,” Barbara assured him. “I was worried, we were all worried. It was a really terrible six months, but I would rather have dealt with that than you not to have come home at all.”

Jason shifted in his seat, the weight of her gaze sending a ribbon of anxiety through him. “It was no walk in the park for me either.”

“But that’s the job, isn’t it? You accomplished what you set out to accomplish. Get the information you needed, got it to the GCPD. Roman Sionis was arrested legally, sent to Blackgate, and there is enough evidence that will keep him there for a long time. You did an amazing job.”

“But?” Jason prodded.

“But you went about it the wrong way.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you go about it the way you did?” Barbara asked.

Jason exhaled, his mouth pursing tightly as his knee began to bounce nervously. “Because I thought- I just wanted…”

“What?”

“I was scared,” Jason confessed softly, “I was scared of what would happen if T- any of you knew. Scared of what that would mean.”

“And now what?”

“I’m scared Tim won’t talk to me again.”

“It is unlikely given the circle we run in that he won’t talk to you ever again.”

“I don’t want him to talk to me because he has too,” Jason mumbled. “I want him to talk to me because he wants to.”

Barbara nodded slightly, her fingers ghosting patterns pensively over her desk. “Tim’s been staying at his office. That’s why you haven’t seen him. If you want to talk to Tim, you’re going to have go inside the building. If he refuses to see you, then I recommend you back off and wait for him to come around.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jason wondered, his eyebrows drawing together in question.

“You went to Kon for help,” Barbara smiled carefully, “I think that’s speaks volumes of your sincerity.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 11/11! I hope all your wishes come true! Sending you all my love.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Letting you in there could lose me my job.” Tam stepped out of her seat, her heels bringing her high enough that she didn’t have to crane her neck so far back to stare him down with hard eyes. “Do you want me to get fired, Jason?”
> 
> “Of course not,” he sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets to hide his sudden need to fidget. “I like you.”
> 
> “I liked you too,” Tam frowned, “Until you hurt my favorite Wayne.”
> 
> Jason looked away, thoroughly abashed. “What has he told you?”
> 
> “Nothing. I know he thought you were dead; I know he found out you weren’t. The walking disaster that existed between those two events has been all the intel I was given, but it was enough to draw some conclusions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I meant to get this out much earlier today (But it was my birthday today so I got behind.)

All the notions of you, the notions of me

We finally agree don’t mean a thing

One

By Birdtalker

* * *

Wayne Enterprises was deceptively huge. Any passing bystander would acknowledge the tower was large: it was the largest building in Gotham, but that was without considering the underground parking structure and, further below, where the additional labs the R&D department was allowed to get physical with their bigger concepts. The main floors housed offices, board rooms and cubicles, with the higher floors being home of the executive suites and was completed with an inhouse cafeteria and coffee shop, company gym, and childcare center.

Bruce’s office was on the top most floor, just under the observation deck, and Tim’s office was set up on the floor below-- which eased Jason’s concern of running into Bruce if it was one of the rare days where he was logging desk hours.

The lobby was laid in an emerald-toned marble, cracked with steel gray and black veins that complemented the leather and metal chairs and tables that decorated the shinning atrium. Several security guards were placed near the entrance and throughout the lobby and two different receptionists manned the long front desk which was bookend by two golden elevators.

The elevators only worked with a keycard, so without employee clearance or an appointment, he couldn’t just stroll up to Tim’s floor on his own: which left him to devise a slightly more covert way of getting in. The black slacks were generic, but pressed neatly. The pair of used dress shoes were freshly polished, and the button-up Bruce had gifted him two Christmases ago was done up just under the hollow of his throat, a trench coat Alfred pilfered from the manor on his behalf replacing his usual brown leather.

Jason positioned himself outside the building, spinning a cigarette between his fingers but not lighting it, waiting as people began returning from lunch. He perked up as a group of insufferable looking men in suits rounded the corner, chatting idly, some with to-go boxes tucked in their hands. As they turned towards the building, Jason grabbed onto the door’s heavy handle, pulling it open for the men with a smile, and tagging onto the end of their cluster and walking confidently across the foyer and into the elevator. He pressed the floor number, sliding back into the corner of the elevator, and waiting as each passenger got off on their designated floor until he was alone, climbing his way to the 51st floor.

Tam’s desk was situated across from the elevators, large and arched with her name placard shining next to a large vase of flowers and guestbook, her three-monitored desktop taking up the center right of her space. She was digging in the cabinets behind her, phone pressed to her ear, shuffling the needed documents as she took her seat, typing one-handed, the forms held in her left hand.

“I have it here, I’m putting it on the schedule...you’re welcome,” Tam hung up the phone, typing at full capacity when Jason approached.

“I’d like to speak with Mr. Drake-Wayne, please?”

“Do you have an appointment?” Tam clipped.

“No.”

“He doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.” She said without tearing her eyes from her computer. “Please take one of the cards in front of you, you can call that number to schedule.”

“If I could just-”

“Sir, I will call security if-” Tam looked up, her face dropping from her professional sternness, “Shit, Jason.”

“Hello, Tam,” Jason greeted carefully.

Tam swiveled her chair, her mouth puckering unpleasantly, “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Barbara sent me.”

“She _sent_ you?”

“Well,” Jason shrugged, “She told me this is where Tim has been hiding out.”

“And that’s supposed to give you clearance to show up at his office without an appointment?”

“He doesn’t take a lunch,” Jason argued, “He eats at his desk. My visit won’t take up his work time.”

“Letting you in there could lose me my job.” Tam stepped out of her seat, her heels bringing her high enough that she didn’t have to crane her neck so far back to stare him down with hard eyes. “Do you want me to get fired, Jason?”

“Of course not,” he sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets to hide his sudden need to fidget. “I like you.”

“I liked you too,” Tam frowned, “Until you hurt my favorite Wayne.”

Jason looked away, thoroughly abashed. “What has he told you?”

“Nothing. I know he thought you were dead; I know he found out you weren’t. The walking disaster that existed between those two events has been all the intel I was given, but it was enough to draw some conclusions.”

“I should have apologized to you sooner. I figured the others dealt with a lot; I didn’t consider what you were probably doing to make things better for him. I am sorry, for hurting him, and you.”

“I will accept your apology,” Tam said slowly, “But only because someone’s already given you the punch you obviously deserved. Did Stephanie do that?”

Jason ran his hand to his cheek, which had coverage with concealer and powder. “No, Kon. I haven’t been able to find Stephanie.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t try until things have been cleared up with Tim,” Tam warned, returning to her seat, giving her mouse a few idle clicks. “She doesn’t have Conner’s restraint; she’ll actually kill you.” She lifted her bag, pulling out a pack of makeup wipes and handing them to him. “Just take it off, Tim is going to see right through that anyway. You have to get better at blending your edges.”

Jason grabbed the wipe, dragging it across his jaw before halting abruptly. “You’re going to let me in?”

“If Barbara wants you to talk with him, she probably has a very good reason. Plus,” Tam smiled slowly, “she just emailed me asking to let you through, stating ‘ _She has a very good reason_ ’. Tim will need a fresh cup of coffee. Coffee service is in the kitchen. Can I assume you can fix his cup correctly?”

“Yes,” Jason promised, starting to turn on his heel for the kitchen.

“And Jason?” Tam stalled him, her eyes glinting with warning, “Just so we are clear, you know who my father is. He has taught me a great number of things, one of which is how to make easily disguised explosives. Remember that.”

“I shall keep it in the very forefront of my thoughts, Ms. Fox.”

“Good.”

Jason nodded, walking into the kitchenette and fixing up a large mug of coffee. He strode carefully to Tim’s office, the solid walls of heavy frosted glass still shielding him from view. Stealing one last affirming breath, he pulled the door open, lingering in the opening.

Tim looked up at as the rustling drag of metal against carpet interrupted his work, meeting Jason’s tentative gaze from behind his thin glasses with a look of surprise, standing quickly as the visual caught up to his brain.

“I have your coffee,” Jason said, offering the cup up as the only defense he had, letting the door close softly behind him.

Tim stared blankly before sitting back down. “Well, I can’t drink it from over there.”

Jason moved forward, setting it softly on Tim’s desk, waiting for further instructions.

Tim sat in silence for a moment before rising again, crossing to the tank against the wall. He uncapped the fish food, sprinkling it around the top of the water, the three fish inside flitting up to eat.

“Eddie has some friends?” Jason asked, leaning over to get a better view of the high-tech system.

“I thought he was getting lonely.”

“I thought Bettas were too aggressive?”

“With other bettas,” Tim explain, capping the jar of food. “That’s Pam,” he pointed at the orange-red one the had retreated into the underwater grasses, “she’s an Ember Tetra. And this fancy little guy is Oz, he’s a Pygmy Cory.” The striped Oz swam cheerfully around Eddie as he continued to graze.

“Nice setup,” Jason complimented.

“The absolute best, according to the Petco sales associate. Tam takes care of them for me when I’m gone. And they have actually made work…better? Or at the very least, they are a very cheerful addition to the office life.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Can I take your coat?” Tim asked politely, extending a hand.

“Oh uhh…” Jason shucked it down, handing it off to Tim, who hung it on the rack that housed his outer wear. “Thanks.”

“Take a seat.” Tim insisted, sitting back down for a third time as Jason dropped into the chair across from the desk, his fingers tugging self-consciously at his slacks. Tim took up the mug of coffee, raising it to his lips and sipping it with a delicate caution, the steaming fogging up his lenses briefly.

“You…” Jason searched hesitantly, not having prepared enough to get this far. “You cut your hair.”

Tim’s fingers reached up, brushing self-consciously against the short hairs at the back of his head. “Yes. It was Stephanie’s idea. She thought a change would do me some good.”

“How is she? I haven’t…I haven’t run into her yet.”

“She’s been busy. She’s taking a real heavy course load this semester, so she moved closer to campus.”

“That’s…good. Good for her.”

Tim brushed his fingers against the nap of his neck once more. “You don’t like my hair?”

“I-my opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Whether it matters or not, doesn’t mean you aren’t entitled to have one.”

“You always look nice,” Jason admitted lamely.

“Thank you,” Tim mumbled, the corner of his mouth flickering with the barest hint of a smile. “You look…”

“Like hell?” Jason suggested. “Thanks, I feel like it.”

“I was actually going to say you look really good. With the exceptions of the bruising,” Tim walked around the desk to examine Jason more closely, “Has somebody looked at that?”

“Barbara said nothing was broken.”

“And then she told you where I’ve been hiding,” Tim nodded understandingly, his fingers hovering just above Jason’s purpling skin. “And what about your throat? Have you been able to eat and drink without pain? Any damage to the esophagus or larynx?”

“It’s fine,” Jason assured with a nervous swallow, “just a little sore. Looks worse than it really is.”

“What happened?”

“I had a disagreement with an acquaintance,” Jason dismissed.

Tim’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief, “What acquaintance could get that kind of jump on you?”

“It’s not important.”

Tim frowned, looking at the finger-shaped bruises with careful study, “You contacted Kon.”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed, leaning away. “Yeah, I contacted Kon.”

“That was a stupid thing to do,” Tim hissed, stepping back to take a seat on the edge of his desk.

“Yeah, but that’s what I do, I do stupid things.”

“He could have seriously hurt you. He would be completely in the wrong, the fact that he exhibited this kind of aggression towards you at all is going to have to be dealt with, and I will deal with it,” Tim asserted, frowning darkly, “…but what did you think was going to happen?”

“I was hoping we could just have a polite little conversation.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“A fair point that all three of us can agree with. I may have said some things I shouldn’t have said,” Jason confessed reluctantly. “I’ll admit: I did probably deserve the punch, the other bruises though, I think were uncalled for.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Look, I’m sorry.” Jason apologized empathetically. “I really am sorry. If I could, I would go back and I would do things differently.”

Tim shrugged; his hands folded neatly in his lap. “You did what you thought was best.”

“Yeah, I did. But just because it was the best thing doesn’t mean it was the right thing. I could have trusted you with this.”

“Maybe you were right not to,” Tim sighed, “I would have been one hundred percent against it, I would have fought you tooth and nail over it.”

“And maybe you would have been right too.”

“You did what had to be done,” Tim relented, “You did it well. You should be proud. I shouldn’t be stealing your victory.”

Jason’s mouth tightened, his anxious hands gripping tighter against the fabric along his knees. “I would have come back right away, but I couldn’t be sure who went to prison and who didn’t. So, I went to Boston, Philadelphia, Williamsburg, to be sure I didn’t have any kind of tail. I waited for my hair to grow back in, dyed it again. I wanted to be certain, _completely certain_ it was safe to come back, that I didn’t drag any of this back to you guys. But I need you to know, I wanted to come back right away. It was killing me to wait those extra weeks.”

“You did the right thing. The smart thing,” Tim conceded gently. “I was angry. Not unreasonably so. But I am also sorry, I overreacted.”

The wire tight strangle around his heart snapped, his fear ebbing out from his chest. “Friends?” Jason asked, extending his hand.

“Yes,” Tim smiled, taking Jason’s hand, “We’re still friends.”

Jason released his hand, his skin prickling where Tim’s skin had touched. “Wait here,” Jason instructed, going to his coat and digging the pocket. “Here,” he handed over a small wrapped box to Tim.

“What is this?”

“I missed the holidays, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t do any shopping.”

Tim opened the gift, pulling out a rock castle.

“Not that you need it,” Jason observed, “you’ve given them a pretty nice habitat already.”

“A fish tank can never have too many castles,” Tim smiled prettily, taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeve, reaching into the tank to place the castle proudly in the center. “Thank you.”

“I’ll give your next one tomorrow, if you’re free sometime.”

Tim stopped wiping his arm, napkin clutched in his left hand. “Next one?”

“Eight nights,” Jason shrugged, “you get a present each night, don’t you?”

Tim’s lips parted, his tongue peeking through and stalling at a half-formed word before starting again. “You bought me eight presents?”

“Happy belated Hanukkah, Babybird,” Jason smiled, “Next year you’ll make me some matza balls and latkes, yeah?”

“I…” Tim trailed off, dumbfounded, “I can’t cook.”

“Okay then, I’ll make them,” Jason offered happily.

Tim blinked, his cheeks burning as his mouth moved unbidden, the words slipping quietly passed his lips. “Ani ohev ot’h’a.”

Jason’s face crinkled in pleasant confusion. “Bless you?” He supplied hesitantly.

Tim laughed heartily, the joyous feeling pooling in his belly and spilling out without hesitation for the first time in six months. Jason was home, and it felt safe to laugh again.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone who is reading the series! Fish tank at the office is for DigitalMagpie! The next installment, which is the one I have been waiting to get to since the beginning, is already being worked on, so hopefully I will have it up soon, but with upcoming holidays it could be hit or miss. This tension will finally get some resolution... I love you. Please stay safe and sane and healthy.


End file.
